


February 12

by lizandletdie



Series: 500 Follower Promptathon [7]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, That's My Story and I'm Sticking to it, belle is dead, jefferson hasn't shown up yet is all, she is not in fact dead, well he thinks she's dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-25
Updated: 2014-06-25
Packaged: 2018-02-06 03:55:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1843435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizandletdie/pseuds/lizandletdie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nice little angsty short drabble where Rumplestiltskin takes his child to visit Belle's grave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	February 12

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous prompt:  
> On the 12th of each month Rumpel leaves a rose on a nameless grave. Little Bae decides to ask his father who was the nameless person.
> 
> So I somehow missed the "each month" part of this.
> 
> I hate that I have to do this, but apparently I do. If you're reading this fic anywhere besides AO3, it was posted without my consent and likely profited someone else. Please consider [donating](https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr?cmd=_donations&business=CZNGXGNP4PRX4&lc=US&item_name=The%20Mantis%20Fund&currency_code=USD&bn=PP%2dDonationsBF%3abtn_donate_SM%2egif%3aNonHosted) or swinging by my Tumblr (standbyyourmantis) to let me know what you thought!

His son wasn’t her child, but he’d hoped she might have accepted him as her own anyway.  He thought she might have, she’d been nothing but kind words and smiles for him and his son was infinitely more lovable than he was.

She had brought life back into his life and he had been the death of her.  The irony wasn’t lost on Rumplestiltskin, even now as he clutched his beloved son’s hand and placed a rose on the grave that didn’t contain her body and never would.  She was lost to him now as his son once was, a casualty of the other world.  He was doomed to always live a split life, it seemed, trapped between both places with his heart never to be whole.  

He’d chosen February 12, it was close to Valentine’s day (she’d have loved Valentine’s day, and he had loved her) but he’d not have her over-shadowed by the celebrations of others, and the 13th had been too unlucky a date.  So Belle was celebrated on the 12th, at dawn, come wind or rain or snow.

He would keep her safe in his memory, at least, as he kept his son safe at his side.

"Papa?"  Bae whispered once, his third year of coming with his father and the first time he ever broke the spell.  "Who was she?"

How could he find the words to tell his child of the woman who had almost been his mother when there were no words to describe the blue of her eyes and the gentleness of his soul to a child whose world had been deprivation and abandonment and whose father had sold whatever remained of his ragged soul to be returned to him?

So instead, he shook his head and took his child home.  He had only a little longer to wait now before the Savior returned, and then perhaps he could take his boy home.  He would find Belle, then, and in the old world he would finally at least provide her with the honors she should have had in life.

Only a little while longer.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this and totally believe it has a happy ending. Jefferson saves her and they live happily ever after.


End file.
